


How many times do you think I've done this?

by Yelposaurus



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ocean, cliffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 03:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20828342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yelposaurus/pseuds/Yelposaurus
Summary: I have had dreams of this place. I could never have imagined that such a beautiful corner of the world would actually exist. And yet here I am, standing on my cliff edge, watching the birds made of ash and the fish made of flames.





	How many times do you think I've done this?

The wind blows freely up here, on this cliff edge I stand upon. The short grass billowing in a such way that one could mistake it for water. The crumbling edge only a few feet away, with the ocean so far below that I can't help thinking about what could happen. Flower petals dance and twirl in the currents of the breeze, just as the birds dot the sky up above. They caw and squawk, creating a racket that I can't say I don't find familiar, find it comforting.  
The water below churns, and I know that it's angry, crashing and white and foamy, even if I can't see the place it meets the rocks. But if I look close enough, I can see slices of silver and gold swimming through the waves, dancing in a mirror with the sky as the reflection. This sight feels too much like home, and much too familiar for the fact that I have never touched foot on this grass. But with the squawking birds and the billowing grass and the fish of silver and gold, I find that I can't really bring myself to care.

I have had dreams of this place. I could never have imagined that such a beautiful corner of the world would actually exist. And yet here I am, standing on my cliff edge, watching the birds made of ash and the fish made of flames.  
Maybe the fact that I have seen this place before, in my sleep, makes it so achingly familiar. But that doesn't explain how I feel - like I'm the only one who doesn't know, the only one out of the loop. But there isn't a single soul here. And if you're thinking that there is, that there's me here on this cliff edge with the water and the sky, I'd have to say you're wrong. I think I lost my soul quite a while ago. I can't remember how, though. I really can't remember too much of anything, now that I think about it.  
Strange, isn't it?  
When you stand in such a pretty place you can only have dreamt of. It almost makes me question whether this is real.  
I look up and out, further to the horizon than where I've been focusing at the bottom of the cliffs. I think I see a little white boat, bobbing on the calmer waters out to sea, but I don't think I can be sure. Even at such a distance, the boat looks confusingly familiar. But I'm not able to focus on that for too long, as a small white boat turns the corner and stops quite a bit away from the cliff. There's someone waving on the boat. They're looking at me. Or, as I find out a few moments later, they were looking behind me. Because I'm now being pushed, hard, off the edge of the cliff, down to the water below, and I really don't think anyone can blame me for the scream that clambers its way up my throat and tears out of my mouth. 

The fall is over so fast I don't really believe its happened before I'm in the water, waving my arms and flapping like a little bird. Fortunately for me, however, the little white boat is close by, and I'm being hauled over the side, hacking up a lung. When I've calmed down, I look up. 

"Always the best bit, right?" 

And I don't really know what to say to that so I just put my head back down and decide its best to just sit tight. But not before I catch a glimpse of someone standing on the cliffs, admiring the birds and the grass and the fish, wearing the same clothes as me, the same hair and the same face. But it's just a trick of the eyes, right? 

The person who pulled me out of the water sails the boat out to sea, and we sit there for a while. 

"You ever feel like there's nothing else in the world? Like this is all there is, just going round and round? Can't say I enjoy it too much, picking the same person out of the water every time," they say, and again I stay quiet because I really don't know what's happening, or why. 

I can only think one thing to myself in that moment, as I see the person who looks just like me be pushed off the edge, and tumble down to the waiting boat below, another person waiting at the side to pull them up. 

_I feel like I've done this a thousand times before._


End file.
